A Stone's Throw, page 3
part #2 of The Petralist Series
The Game was a huge obstacle course, one of such scope he wondered where she came up with it. Every day she directed him in adding new features and clearing more space. He had no idea how big it would eventually grow, but didn’t dare ask for fear she might realize just how enormous it was already and stop expanding it.
“I’ll crush yesterday’s record,” he assured her as he dropped his tattered shirt and reached into the satchel that held his precious power stones.
“No more basalt,” she said before he could fish out the little bag of powdered stone.
“No fair,” he protested. “I used up a lot on the run from town.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Connor lad, you’ve already seen life isn’t fair. You survived because you adapted. Adapt now.” Although she was older than his mother and worked hard in her studio every day, the only lines on her face were laugh lines around her eyes. While his mother’s hair was brown, Ailsa’s was a tarnished red-gold with streaks of gray that made it look like a cloudy sunset.
Her emerald eyes shone with the same excitement he felt for running the Game. Even though he was the one who got to test himself against the challenging obstacles, she seemed to love it at least as much as he did.
Connor considered his resources as he faced the Game. With no chance to replenish basalt, and with it already far spent, he’d have to try something more creative. No doubt that was Ailsa’s plan. She lacked huge stores, and he’d used more than he should have during the morning’s adventure. He’d have to carefully manage what remained of the precious resource.
“Ready?” Ailsa asked briskly. “Three seconds.”
He didn’t even bother arguing. For some Tallan-inspired reason, she insisted on giving him less and less time to prepare. The first week it was ten seconds, the second week five.
Connor snatched up some stones just as Ailsa dropped her hand in the signal to begin.
With a shout, he launched into the obstacle course.
The Game began as a confusing maze of ten-foot tall, packed earthen walls and dead-ends designed to confuse and delay. Of course, he had built it, although he’d promised Ailsa he wouldn’t pay attention. For anyone else, traversing that maze would be as hard as finding an unlicked sweetbread anywhere in Hamish’s house.
Connor didn’t hesitate, but tapped basalt and sped through the maze, not pausing before tearing around turns so fast he sometimes had to kick off the walls to keep his feet. The smooth, earthen floor was broken in several places by a small stream that meandered back and forth through the maze, as if its course had gotten confused by the twisting formations.
When he exited the last turn, he faced a complex series of ramps and bridges made of earth and rough-hewn trees suspended over partially dug pits and broken ground. This part of the course was still under construction and promised to be the most fun of all. Since it wasn’t finished, he skirted around it to approach the one part he’d begun to dread.
A small pond blocked his path. Almost perfectly round but for a rough, bulging inlet on the left side, it looked innocent enough, like anything that had once been edible that Hamish dug out of one of his pockets. Only upon closer inspection did one recognize the risk. He’d fashioned the pond using elemental earth powers, but his connection with slate had slipped near the end of the process. The ground had buckled when it snapped from his control, tossing him into the air in a spray of dirt. Only a quick tapping of granite had saved him broken bones when he landed. He hadn’t had time to fix the deformed pond yet.
He found it easier to work with elemental water accessed through soapstone, and had filled the pond by connecting with an underground stream and encouraging part of it to split off and force its way to the surface. He had tried to fashion an exit stream too, but that part hadn’t gone so well. The resulting small stream was the same one he’d just crossed as he ran through the maze. He was going to have to do something about it soon, or it could undermine the integrity of some of the walls. Working with elemental powers was as tricky as visiting Jean without getting doused with one of her grandmother’s cure-all tonics.
After a deep breath to steady himself for the upcoming challenge, Connor slid a piece of slate into his boot and tried clearing his mind. It took only a few seconds to connect through that gateway of slate to the vast powers of the earth. The first few times he’d attempted slate, he’d tried to pry open that gateway, to force a connection. He’d learned that the door opened the other way, and he had to allow the connection to flow of its own accord.
The time pressure made patience harder, but he forced himself to relax. Maybe that’s why Gregor the Sentry had usually appeared so calm. He’d been beaten into submission by the unyielding demands of the earth. The connection came, and Connor’s senses extended through the tiny wafer of slate, spreading out through the ground around him. It was like growing new limbs, and he grinned to feel the earth as clearly as he felt his own skin. He took a few more seconds to ground himself properly, to ensure a strong connection. Gregor had described working with slate as walking with the earth. Connor wished the earth walked faster sometimes.
After securing his hold on the ground nearby, Connor pulsed his senses in every direction, exulting in the sensation of feeling everything. Sliding his senses through the earth was more than touch. In addition to feeling the cool texture and richness of that fertile land, he could taste it. Not like sucking on dirty rocks like Hamish, but he caught glimpses of flavor, like hints of taste on the tip of his tongue.
The rich soil was like a nibble on one of his mother’s cakes. The minerals he found on the north end of the clearing like a hint of spice, the roots reaching everywhere, drinking in the nutrients, like a piece of fresh sweetbread from Neasa’s kitchen. The roots he’d snapped while ripping up tree trunks tasted a bit staler. When he breathed slow and deep, the scents of the earth came strong to him. He smelled autumn leaves lightly touched with decay, the tang of pine sap, and the fresh clarity of the water recently bubbled up from deep underground.
He hadn’t noticed these deeper sensations the first few times he’d walked with the earth, but as he took more time and focused on the connection, he’d begun to draw more from that link. Behind him, the entire pattern of the maze he’d just traversed pressed upon his earthen skin, a clear map he could traverse blindfolded.
He was about to begin the next, more challenging stage of the game when a single footstep drew his attention like a drop of water in a smooth pond. Someone was lurking in the trees on the slope to his right.
Connor frowned, a flash of cold fear setting his heart racing. Had someone seen him? Could it be one of Ailsa’s assistants, or was it a stranger? Had someone tracked him from Raineach after all?
He probed in that direction, but found nothing but trees. There weren’t even rocks big enough to stand on and shield a person. Had he really felt a footstep?
Then a squirrel darted across the ground not far from where he was probing. The movement drew his attention. It was similar to what he’d felt a moment ago. Could he have misread the sensation? After another few seconds of fruitless probing that revealed nothing new, Aunt Ailsa called from where she watched on the far side of the course.
“Did you set down roots?”
“Just getting grounded,” he called.
He could worry about squirrels later. The long trek down the length of Obrion had left him jumpy and nervous, and he’d worked hard since arriving at Ailsa’s to accept this place as a safe haven. He didn’t want to start jumping at shadows again.
Connor focused on the challenge in front of him. This was real, and he was losing. He needed a flawless finish to counter the extra time he’d wasted. With careful focus, Connor willed a slender column of earth up from the bottom of the pond, close enough to hop to. He couldn’t sense anything through the water, so it was like poking one of his brothers through the blankets in the darkness of the loft room they’d shared. Water might nourish earth, but the two didn’t exactly get along as elemental powers, and the pond shared none of its secrets with his earth senses.
The surface of the pond rippled as the earthen column rose. Connor jumped onto the column when it was but an inch below the surface. The movement stretched his connection with the earth to the breaking point, deadening his deeper senses and contracting his ethereal fingers until he barely felt the column under the pond. With the water interfering, he struggled to solidify the connection, even standing upon the narrow column. After four eternal seconds, he managed to reach far enough with his earth fingers to push a second column up through the bottom of the pond nearby. It was slightly offset instead of right in line with the first one, and it reminded him of the staggered row of haystacks Captain Ilse had used as part of her crafty defense of the manor house during Captain Rory’s first assault. A Wingrunner had used stones touched by Verena to light those haystacks on fire.
His thoughts turned to Verena and how the cute Grandurian Builder had snuggled so perfectly into the crook of his arm. His concentration wavered and the column of earth started to sway under foot, forcing him to pay attention. It took a few seconds to clear away the memories and reestablish a more secure connection to earth.
Connor crossed to the second column and it wobbled as he struggled to ground himself to it. He stood there, two steps into the pond, balancing on one foot. Waiting wasn’t going to help much, so focused on the soapstone he’d downed earlier that morning. While maintaining the tenuous connection with earth, he embraced the rolling power of soapstone. It pooled in his gut and sloshed along his limbs, as hard to connect with as if he were trying to pick up the waters of the pond with his bare hands. His blood pumped loud to his soapstone-enhanced senses. He could feel every vein, every tiny vessel spread through every muscle.
It was really distracting.
Connor tried to seize control of soapstone. When he used it alone like he had that morning, without the distraction of slate, he found soapstone more reliable than the other elemental stones. Using it together with slate was the problem. He’d established affinities with all four of the elemental stones, beginning with soapstone, but had still never managed to walk with two at the same time. Unlike igneous stones, which could not be used together without triggering severe double-tap sickness, in theory, tertiary stones could be used together after establishing affinities with more than one.
Since he was using slate, he should have tried its opposite, quartzite, but air was extremely unstable, as he’d proven in High Lord Goban’s palace earlier. Given his strong affinity for soapstone, he should try pairing marble with it. Marble was its direct opposite. Those rare Petralists who could establish affinity with two tertiary affinity stones were usually limited to working with opposites. They were known as Dawnus, but Connor’s curse was the rarest of all and he’d connected with all of the elemental powers. He was glad he wasn’t limited to marble because the wild craziness of fire scared him and he preferred avoiding it.
So he grasped for soapstone. Sweat beaded his brow, and he could feel every drop, but couldn’t control them. After ten agonizing seconds, he finally felt a flicker of connection. That was the best he’d managed when trying to walk with two elements at once. That flicker started to fade, so Connor yanked on it, hoping to secure his hold, or at least attempt to move the water of the pond. The challenge required he use no more than two columns at any given time, so he needed to use water to break off the first column of earth he’d just vacated. Then he could raise the next step.
A gentle ripple crossed the pond, and Connor started to smile. He was going to get this.
Then his contact with both soapstone and slate slipped away. The water erupted into a geyser that knocked him off his narrow perch just before the column of earth shot into the air like a crossbow bolt, or maybe Hamish’s younger sister launching herself from the outhouse that time they’d hidden the dead snake under the seat.
Connor plunged into the water, laughing from that memory, and came up spitting a mouthful of cold mountain water.
With his connection to slate gone, Connor easily connected to the pulsing current of soapstone. He grasped it, and the waters all around became extensions of his hands. With a little focused thought, he rose to stand on the surface of the pond, completely dry. The surface felt secure under his feet, his footing solid.
He thought back to the first time he’d met Kilian. The Grandurian Water Moccasin had skated up the flowing Lower Wick, and the memory still filled Connor with the same sense of wonder. He’d tried that skating technique, but hadn’t managed those same graceful, effortless glides.
Ailsa rounded the finish gateway on the far side of the pond, her head cocked to one side, questioning.
Connor jogged across the surface of the pond to her.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said with a frown. “I can get either of them a little better every day, but not two together.”
“We’ll keep practicing,” Ailsa said. “This is a crucial skill, Connor, one you must figure out if you are to … succeed.”
He wondered at the pause. What had she almost said?
“Let’s have dinner,” Ailsa said, taking his arm.
Connor grinned and happily led the way from the Game. Working with stones always made him hungry, especially when he walked with the elements. He’d make it work tomorrow. He paused on the high hill at the head of the valley and glanced back. Everything looked serene, exactly as it should.
Had he felt a footstep, or not?
He didn’t want to believe he had, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility. Tomorrow he’d return prepared. If there was someone snooping around, he’d find them.
Chapter 5
They ate a sumptuous dinner with Ailsa’s assistants and several of her friends from the city. It was one of the first times Ailsa had allowed anyone outside of her immediate household to know about him. Connor felt nervous about the meeting, uncomfortable in the fine trousers and dark cotton shirt she provided for him, and worried he’d embarrass himself. Or worse, that someone would recognize him from his run through the city, even though he’d kept his hood pulled low.
The meal passed better than he’d feared. The friends she’d invited were successful merchants but not the stuffy, self-important kind. They seemed genuine and friendly. It was nice to feel friendship with no strings attached, but Connor found it hard to relax and take everything at face value. He’d learned the hard way not to be too trusting too soon.
He enjoyed the time he spent cleaning the workroom after dinner. The rest of the palatial estate still made him nervous. His aunt lived extremely well, better even than Lord Gavin had in Alasdair. Most of the mansion, with its artfully displayed sculptures, gilt-framed paintings, and rich furnishings reminded Connor too much of Shona, Lord Gavin, and Lady Isobel. Of course, Lady Isobel would be humbled to see a no-good linn living so well.
The workroom was his sanctuary. There he could overlook the finery, close his eyes, and breathe deep the smell of stone dust. He loved it when Ailsa and her assistants worked together. The banging of their tiny hammers and chisels reminded him of the sounds of the quarry. With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine he was standing atop Lookout Rock with its vistas of Alasdair valley while the distant sounds of the Cutters working in the quarry echoed around the mountain.
By the next morning, he’d decided what to do about the mysterious footstep. He performed poorly in the morning challenges on control and knocked a small, partially completed sculpture right off a work table when he accidentally threw a broom across the room.
“You’ve got to learn to focus, lad,” Ailsa said, her emerald eyes flashing with a hint of irritation. “Life’s full of surprise fault lines, and will usually break contrary to your plans.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll be all right after I run the Game.”
She smiled. “Aye, lad. It’s all about the game, that’s a fact.”
When they reached the obstacle course in its concealed valley, he scanned the area carefully, but everything looked fine. Hopefully all his worries were for nothing.
At her signal, he sprinted into the maze just as he had the day before. As he tore around tight corners and leaped the stream again and again, he popped a small piece of quartzite into his mouth. As soon as he shoved it into his cheek and started sucking on it, liquid warmth flowed into the center of his head.
Quartzite was unique among the elemental stones, in that it could be internalized, used to enhance the senses. Connor directed it to his ears. A brief stab of pain made him wince as the lobes elongated, then his hearing sharpened under a flood of sounds that threatened to overwhelm his mind. He had practiced enough to withstand that initial onslaught and filter through the meaningless background noise of creaking trees, Ailsa’s breathing, and the slamming of the back door of her distant mansion. He allowed the sounds to pour through his mind like water through a sieve until he found the one he wanted and seized upon it.
There! A soft footfall in the woods on the far side of the clearing behind Ailsa.
Connor slowed to a stop, worry seeping the thrill out of the discovery. He’d hoped not to find anything, to prove this safe haven was still a sanctuary.
It was not.
The new life he’d been starting to build with Ailsa suddenly felt fragile, as if a single misstep would tear it all to shreds. The thought made him hate whoever had dared disturb their secret game. He’d find them and he’d make them tell him why they were there. Maybe they were just a curious neighbor, a bored hunter hoping to run the Game?
If that proved to be the case, he’d eat whatever Hamish offered the next time he saw his red-headed, gangly friend, no questions asked.
Connor slipped a thin wafer of slate into his boot and released his connection with quartzite. If only he could tap both at the same time, it would make life so much easier. Quartzite had confirmed his fears, but slate would prove what kind of situation he faced. The gateway opened easily into his mind this time, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief as he extended feelers of thought into the earth. The vast expanse of the earth stretched beyond his senses, no matter how far he reached, while its indomitable strength flowed up through him and filled him with calm, steady power. He drove his new earth senses across the clearing to search for the skulking intruder.
